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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27436450">"Big Brother Instinct"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspiringAuthor29/pseuds/AspiringAuthor29'>AspiringAuthor29</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen To Spencer Reid Bingo [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Derek hates how self-deprecating he is, Derek is the best big brother, Gen, Hurt Spencer Reid, It's Criminal Minds what do you want people, Penelope is Penelope, Protective Derek Morgan, Spencer has self-esteem issues, Spencer is Insecure, Stabbing, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:35:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27436450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspiringAuthor29/pseuds/AspiringAuthor29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Reid doesn't show up for work and the team's latest Unsub escapes custody, no one stops to consider he might be in trouble. Everyone just assumes he's stuck on the metro that just happens to be having mechanical problems. Everyone but Morgan, that is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Morgan &amp; Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia &amp; Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia &amp; Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid &amp; The BAU Team</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen To Spencer Reid Bingo [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003854</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>262</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>"Big Brother Instinct"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is part two! Warnings for graphic description of blood and stabbing. It also talks about death, but it's not a death fic, I promise.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hey, has anyone seen Reid?" Morgan demanded, looking up from his paperwork and suddenly realizing that his favorite (though his only) skinny genius wasn't at work.</p><p>Emily checked her watch. "I don't know, I should probably call him." A few moments later it had gone straight to voicemail. "Wow, he really is late. This should like go down in the history books or something as the day Spencer Reid was actually late to work."</p><p>Morgan smirked but something in the back of his mind was nagging at his protective instincts. Thinking that he was probably just worrying about the kid for nothing like usual, he tried to quell the little voice and go back to his work. Not that he got much done before the distinct clicking of high heels against tile could be heard signaling that the one and only Penelope Garcia had entered the room.</p><p>"Good morning my happy crime fighters, but Hotch has requested everyone's presence in the conference room," she said in her usual chirpy voice. She shuffled the files in her arms before doing a double-take as everyone rose up to head for the round-table room. "Hey, where's my baby genius?"</p><p>"He's a no-show momma," Morgan answered, still trying to get that little nagging voice in the back of his head to shut up. <em>Spencer's fine</em>, he told himself,<em> you're just overreacting. No one needs you to go all protective mode</em>. He didn't even realize that he had thought about Reid using his first name, something that only happened when he was worried about the genius.</p><p>"Well my oh my, someone needs to record this for the history books," Garcia said before turning and heading for the stairs, "Come on my lovelies, before Hotch has our hides."</p><p>"That's what Em said!" JJ called after her. The group was having a good laugh as they entered the conference room. Rossi was the only one in the room and he smiled in amusement at the sight of the happy-go-lucky agents. Noticing a key member was missing from the happy bunch, he quirked an eyebrow.</p><p>"Where's Reid?" he demanded.</p><p>"He's late. I know the first time since he started!" Garcia giggled.</p><p>This piqued Rossi's interest. He had known the kid for almost three years and never once had he been late. Actually, he had never even been on time, always showing up before everyone else was even out of bed. "What, did his coffee machine quit working?"</p><p>Emily laughed. "I'm pretty sure that Reid would no longer be able to function in any part of his life if that happened, let alone come to work on time."</p><p>All joking ceased when Hotch entered the room and they saw the expression on his face. Someone who didn't know Hotch would say he was merely in a serious mood, but, seeing as that was how he always looked, the agents knew that something was wrong. Something that was seriously pissing Hotch off.</p><p>"Hotch, what's going on?" Emily asked, concerned. Hotch only briefly glanced up at her from beneath his eyelashes before surveying the group and squinting in slight annoyance.</p><p>"Where's Reid?" he demanded.</p><p>JJ shrugged. "No one knows. Emily tried to call him, but it went to voicemail."</p><p>"You know, he probably got stuck on the metro. The train he usually takes was experiencing some minor technical problems and is stuck in the tunnel. You know there's no cell service in some spots down there," Rossi said in sudden understanding.</p><p>Hotch nodded. "Alright then, we can't wait for him. He'll just have to sit this one out or catch up later. Conner Richards escaped custody," he said getting to the point. Everyone looked aghast. Connor had been a particularly nasty Unsub with an obsession with an obsession with knives. He stabbed his victims one time in a place that wouldn't be immediately fatal but would allow the victim to bleed out slowly. He only ever gave them one stab wound so he could savor the deed each time he did it. His father had been a butcher and that had been where he had gotten his fascination with knives and blood. What had allowed them to catch him was when he got sloppy and left a victim before she was completely dead, and she was able to crawl to the phone and call 911.</p><p>"How did he manage to get out of custody?" JJ asked.</p><p>"He hid the blade from the hand-held pencil sharpener that they gave him to write a letter in his sleeve and stabbed the guard in his jugular. He was dead within a minute and Richards ran off," Hotch explained, "We need to head up to the D.C. Penitentiary to see what the scene looks like. I need someone to keep trying Reid and let him know what's going on once you get ahold of him."</p><p>"I got it covered," JJ offered. Everyone began to head down the stairs while Garcia sidled up to him.</p><p>"Don't you look like the worried big brother?" she cooed cheekily. Morgan gave her a half-hearted glare and returned his attention back to where he was walking.</p><p>"Someone's got to worry about the kid."</p><p>Garcia smiled all the same. "You know he's fine right? My junior g-man is tougher than he looks. I know you worry about him, but he really can take care of himself. Besides, he's just stuck on the metro. It's not like he's in the field by himself."</p><p>Morgan offered her a grin. "I'm sure I'm just overreacting, mama."</p><p>"That you are," she said before typing in the entrance code on the keypad next to her and heading into her lair. The grin on Morgan's face immediately dissolved. They didn't know for a fact that Reid was stuck on the metro. <em>"What if he's hurt and can't get to the phone? What if he's really sick and no one's there to take care of him? God knows the kids would never ask for help,"</em> the little voice in the back of his head nagged. God, he hated that voice, mostly because 9 chances out of 10, it was right. Hearing Hotch calling his name, Morgan decided to shove his unnecessary worry down for now and focus on the case.</p><p>0000</p><p>
  <strong>1 Hour Prior</strong>
</p><p>Reid was feeling pretty good about himself this morning, which, if you knew him, didn't happen very often. He had woken up extra early this morning and cleaned his living room. He had showered, gotten dressed, and surprise (Morgan would be proud of him), actually ate a granola bar. He had then drank two cups of coffee with five packets of sugar each, finished a report for a case he consulted on, and reread War and Peace in Russian, even managing to once again read Pride and Prejudice (also in Russian). All which he managed to do with the dull, aching remnants of a two-day long migraine still thrumming in the back of his skull.</p><p>So, to say the least, Reid was proud of himself. Maybe not in the same ways other people would be, but he was none the less. He had needed the extra distractions that came with reading the classics he loved after the last case, especially with the hope that a distraction would take his mind off of the jackhammer in his head. The things Connor Richards had done were now permanently seared into his brain, filed away like everything else to cause him further torment later on. It might not even have been as bad if he hadn't been the one to finally slap the cuffs on the guy.</p><p>Now though, he had to focus on leaving for work. He had everything ready aside from his gun and his black Converse that were in his room, right where he had thrown them the night before, exhausted from his mind running a mile a minute and the jack hammer-like migraine tearing at his eye sockets. His bedroom door was open a crack and he could feel unnaturally cool air seeping through the gap.</p><p><em>Great</em>, Reid thought sarcastically, <em>Air conditioning's broken down again</em>. That had been happening a lot recently. Apparently, the air conditioning in his entire apartment complex had been having issues and the landlord was having issues getting a repair man in to fix it. The main vent was in his bedroom and any time it went on the fritz, it felt like he was walking into a meat locker. For someone who was already so skinny and cold all the time, he really didn't appreciate it.</p><p>A shiver ran up his spine as he pushed the door open. He immediately became confused, which didn't happen often with his genius brain. The air in the room wasn't just chilly like it was coming from a dysfunctional air conditioner, but the type of bone-chilling numbness that bit deep into your skin and stung your lungs with every breath. It was the type of cool air that only came from the icy cold mornings in January when snow coated the ground in thick layers. But that didn't make any sense. Why would it be freezing like a snowstorm inside his bedroom?</p><p>It only took him a moment to recognize the culprit, even if it didn't exactly take a profiler to do so. His bedroom window was wide open. It shouldn't have been like that. Years of working for the FBI had turned him a bit paranoid and he always had his windows locked at all times. That's when he remembered stumbling into his room last night, a chronic migraine right on its peak, and needing some sort of relief from the feverish feeling raging through his head. In a daze, he had unlocked his window and opened it a crack. He must have still been half asleep this morning when he didn't even notice the temperature difference. It still shouldn't have been open that far, though. He knew for a fact he had only opened it a crack. The surprising part was the fact that this all went through his head in a matter of seconds before he was whirling around to face the wall behind him.</p><p>Not even registering what he was facing, or even if he was facing anything at all, he blindly grappled for his revolver which should have been on his nightstand like always. Instead, he was met with empty air and the cool wooden surface of the nightstand. In a flash of movement, a human form he didn't even recognize was launching himself at him. Spencer felt the blinding pain of a knife piercing his skin and the horribly strange coolness as the blade slipped into his stomach further and further. It all happened so fast that a cry of pain burst through his lips before he could comprehend the fact that the noise had left his own lips. It was like nothing he had ever imagined, even compared to being shot in the knee.</p><p>It wasn't long before the blade was being twisted at an excruciating angle and ripped out, the crimson gleam of his own blood in full view on the blade. Suddenly, his head was swimming and his legs didn't seem capable of sustaining his own weight any longer. He felt the softness of his carpet and only then registered that he was now on his bedroom floor. Something wasn't right though. He didn't have a clue who had stabbed him, and he knew that was going to be crucial if he survived and managed to tell the team what had happened.</p><p><em>If he survived</em>. There was no if about it. He <em>had to survive</em>. He couldn't do that to the people he loved. His mother needed him. It would destroy JJ and Garcia. He couldn't imagine life without Morgan. He couldn't die. So, he took great care to purposefully look up at his assailant, memorizing every detail of his face, and putting every bit of determined fire he had behind his eyes.</p><p>He was so shocked by what he saw that he almost forgot what state he was in. Connor Richards face stared back from above him twisted in that same cruel sneer burned in his memory from the arrest. His sandy blond hair was tangled and windswept from the winter breeze. The tips of his nose and ears were pink with chill. And those same taunting, piercing, gray-blue eyes glared back at him, as if were daring the genius to fight back.</p><p>"How-" Spencer managed to croak out before the knife was once again slipping through the layers of muscle and tissue gently defined in his stomach. This time, Richards took care to slide the knife in as agonizingly slow as he could. Somewhere in the back of Reid's mind the profile nagged at the edge of his conscience. Richards shouldn't have gone back for the second stab. It broke his MO. The killer took extreme pleasure from giving his victims one wound that would allow him to watch them slowly bleed out for hours on end until he finally saw the last flickers of light leave their eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind though too, the profile told him that the Unsub would have extreme anger issues that would cause him to lash out whenever someone got on his wrong side, which would be very easy to do in Reid's case seeing as he had arrested the man and led him to a life sentence in prison.</p><p>"Shh, Doctor Reid, don't worry about a thing. Just know that you brought this on yourself and that I will thoroughly enjoy every moment of it," Connor murmured in a hushed tone, his lips splitting into a hideous grin. With a quick flick of his wrist, Richards once again twisted the knife and pulled it out at the same excruciating speed. Through the entire ordeal, Reid bit down on his tongue to keep the sobs he so desperately wanted to release in his throat. Richards may have invaded the security he felt in his home and was now repeatedly stabbing him on his own bedroom floor, but he would not give the man the pleasure of hearing his cries. He made sure to keep eye contact with him the entire time.</p><p>When Hotch had been stabbed by Foyet, him and Garcia had had a whole conversation about blinkers. At the time, Reid had said that he was a blinker, someone who let other see his emotions. But this wasn't the time to be a blinker. He needed to stare Richards down just like Hotch had done to Foyet. There wasn't a particular reason besides the fact that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he died crying and begging for his life.</p><p>The edges of his vision turned fuzzy and gray as the knife dove into his flesh a third time. He felt unusually cold, and not just from the chilly air filling his room. It was a cold that ran deeper than flesh and bone. It was a cold of the mind that he somehow knew belonged to the presence of death. Even now he could feel himself drifting. Something told him he needed to fight it, he needed to hang on, but he was just so tired.</p><p><em>Hang on Reid, that's an order</em>. Hotch. His voice wasn't hard to recognize even in Reid's pain-filled haze. Somehow, he found comfort in the stern voice of his boss even though he knew it was just a figment of his subconscious. The familiar cadence grounded him, and his boss once again became his cornerstone like he always was.</p><p><em>Stay with us, Spence</em>. JJ. Also so familiar and comforting that it almost broke his carefully constructed walls.</p><p><em>Please don't leave. We need you my junior g-man</em>. Garcia, of course.</p><p><em>Hang on, kiddo</em>. Obviously, Rossi.</p><p><em>Stay strong Spencer</em>. Emily.</p><p><em>Stay awake, pretty boy</em>. This one did it for Reid. The sound of Morgan's voice lit a new fire in Reid's soul. He forced his eyes open, determined to live for his family, and most of all for his big brother in everything but blood. The team would find him. He was already super late for work, and someone was bound to notice. They would come for him and he'd be fine.</p><p>Richards had just straddled Reid's hips to bring the knife down a fourth time when there was a sharp knocking on his front door. Richards' hand froze midair and his head whipped towards the source of the noise. He clamped his hand down on Reid's mouth to keep the young doctor quiet.</p><p>Sadly, it hadn't even crossed the genius' hazy brain to call out. He was too numb and cold. He was trying so hard to survive for everyone he loved, but if the team didn't find him in time, he didn't think he would make it. He knew that he should be fighting, taking the Unsub's small window of distraction as a blessing, but he couldn't even seem to move his own fingers. His mind felt like it wasn't even connected to the body it was in.</p><p>Another round of knocking, this time louder and more frantic than the previous time. "Reid! Are you in there? Open the door kid!" Spencer knew that he should recognize that voice. That deep voice was very familiar and even though he couldn't place it, he still got an odd comfort from the voice just being there. Where did he know that voice from?</p><p>For a few moments, it was completely, eerily, silent. Richards was still frozen, nothing moving but his chest in great, panicked heaves. The voice seemed to be gone. Reid wanted to cry, even if it meant giving his assailant the satisfaction of seeing him in anguish. He had really thought that the voice was going to rescue him. Now, that moment of security was gone. The warmth he had felt in those few seconds was now once again replaced by the foreboding cold that he had been feeling since the moment he opened his bedroom door.</p><p>The extended period of quiet seemed to melt Connor's frozen position. He turned his head back towards Reid, grin filled with malice, eyes shining with the exhilaration from the kill he was about to finish off.</p><p>"Seems like your visitor left, Doc," the killer snarled. He once again raised the knife above his head and Reid closed his eyes, trying to will himself into the welcoming oblivion that came with being unconscious before he felt the pain. But then, the blow didn't come. Reid barely had enough energy to drag his eyes open a sliver to see why it hadn't come. Not that he was going to find out anyway. His eyes began to slip once again and the last things he saw and heard before total blackness engulfed him were a broadly built figure coming through his doorway and the sound of a gunshot.</p><p>0000</p><p>Morgan had known that something wasn't right from the moment Reid hadn't walked into the bullpen on time. He didn't care if the metro the boy usually took was broken down or not, he had still worried. Even if he had managed to shove it down for a little while, it had come back full force the moment the they found out the metro made it to the station and their was still no sign of Reid, nor was even picking up his phone. Morgan could tell that he wasn't the only one worried, but he seemed to be the only one who knew wholeheartedly that something was wrong. Call it intuition or whatever, but he knew Reid was in trouble.</p><p>So, that was why he was now climbing the staircase to the boy's apartment. He had asked Hotch if he could come over to check on him, though it wasn't like he gave the unit chief any room to argue, and eventually got the consent he needed to temporarily abandon the freshly opened case against Connor Richards.</p><p>Approaching Reid's door was such a familiar motion for Morgan that he found his mind wandering to the dozens of times he had picked the kid up or hung out at his place. Secretly, he had always gotten a sort of solace from being in the young doctor's apartment, especially after a tough case. The way he always kept the apartment fairly warm and dark helped to soothe Morgan. Not to mention the fact that being surrounded by the kids thousands of books offered him with some knew scenery apart from the everyday bustle of electronics (plus, the entire house smelt so indescribably like Reid that it always made Morgan remember how much he cared for the kid, even when he got on his nerves).</p><p>He knocked on the door and waited a moment. He was met by silence. His worry increasing tenfold, he knocked again, this time with much more haste. Again, he was met with silence. The feeble hope he had been clinging to that the kid had just overslept went out the window, considering he had given Reid two chances to open the door, he felt that sufficient enough and took a step back, preparing to kick the door down. Then he remembered the spare key Reid had given him after the whole Anthrax incident. Deciding that maybe he would give him the courtesy of not kicking his door down, he pulled his keyring out and heard the click</p><p>The apartment was unsettlingly quiet. The living room lights were still on and Morgan noticed Reid's beloved messenger bag was still sitting on his couch. Considering the kid never went anywhere without, he knew something was going on, and nothing good at that.</p><p>Morgan pulled his gun out of the holster, holding it out in front of him and cautiously moving through the complex. As he approached Reid's bedroom, he could feel the significant drop in temperature, which was strange considering how cold the young genius always was.</p><p>The door itself was only open a crack but, like the living room, the lights were also on. It was completely silent inside as he reached his hand out and pushed the door open with a creak. The sight he was met with inside would give him nightmares for months to come, he was sure. Spencer was collapsed on the floor, blood soaking the entire front of his shirt and the carpet beneath him, his skin ashen with blood loss. Worse yet was the fact that Connor Richards was straddling his best friend's hips, a knife coated in the boy's blood in the air. Morgan's brain barely computed his own finger pulling the trigger on his gun. Once, twice, three times. He was seeing nothing but red. Yes, he knew that Richards was incapacitated and was no longer a threat, but all he could think about in the moment was the fact that this man had stabbed the innocent genius, more importantly his best friend and little brother in all but blood.</p><p>The click of his empty clip was what eventually brought him back to reality. Granted, it had only had four bullets in it to begin with, but he had still managed to empty them all into one Unsub. He didn't care though, not really.</p><p>The ringing from the gunshots are still reverberating in his ears when he rushes to Reid's side and kneels down. He doesn't even hesitate a moment to take his pulse, and, upon finding a faint one there, shedding his jacket and pressing it to the three deep wounds on his stomach. He applies as much pressure as he dares with one hand and pulls out his phone to call 911 with the other. He barely even listens to the operator, only answering the basic questions she needs to know to get help there faster.</p><p>Morgan's head is spinning as his entire system is overloaded with panic and the smell of blood. His best friend's blood. After he had been the one to find Emily not all that long ago, he didn't think that he would be able to handle going through it a second time, especially since this time, his teammates death wouldn't be fake.</p><p>Seeing more blood drip from under the wad of now ruined material, Morgan adds more force in the hopes of quelling the blood flow. To his surprise, this elicits a small, quiet groan from the boy in question. For the first time since he walked into the room, Morgan finds himself thanking his lucky stars Reid is unconscious for this part.</p><p>In the hopes of offering the kid some comfort, Morgan scooches over and lifts Reid's head so he can gently lower it on to his own lap. Still keeping steady pressure on the wounds with one hand, he runs a hand through the kid's boy bandish hair.</p><p>"I'm sorry pretty boy. I know it hurts," he finds himself whispering because what is he supposed to say? You'll be alright? He didn't want to lie to Reid when he didn't know that for sure. Would the ambulance even get there in time? He couldn't know.<em> No</em>, he berated his own thoughts, <em>everything will be absolutely fine. It has to be. The team can't make it without Reid.</em></p><p>This internal conflict of doubt continued in his head for a few moments as he absentmindedly ran a hand through Reid's hair in the soothing way he knew he liked. In his head, the elder knew that he should probably call Hotch and let him know what was going on, but he couldn't bring himself to stop the motion he was making with his hand through Reid's hair. He would just have to wait and call the rest of the team when the ambulance arrived.</p><p>Another small groan from Reid had Morgan leaning over in concern. "I'm right here, kid," he murmured, wiping the trail of blood leaking from his lips away with a soft touch. Morgan may not be a doctor, medical or Spencer Reid type either way, but blood coming from someone's mouth when they were this gravelly injured was bad. Really, really bad. It usually meant that something was bleeding internally, something that Morgan could do nothing about.</p><p>Even as he heard the faint sounds of sirens getting closer, Morgan bowed his head. Ever since Buford, Morgan had lost his faith. He hadn't been to church in years let alone prayed for anything, but here, with Reid's blood all over his hands in the freezing bedroom, paramedics still not there, that's exactly what he did. He prayed.</p><p>0000</p><p>Incessant beeping. Hissing of machinery. Constant movement all around him. The smell of cleaning chemicals. Yep, Spencer was in a hospital. Even if it felt like a monumental effort to even attempt opening his eyes, he knew where he was as well as he knew his own name. The only thing that didn't make sense in the genius' mind was the warm, strong hand gripping his own icy one.</p><p>"Do you think he's comfortable enough?"</p><p>"Baby girl, he's not even awake. I doubt he even feels anything."</p><p>"I know, I just don't want him to be in any pain."</p><p>"They gave him enough morphine to keep comfortable for a while."</p><p>"They gave him…please tell me they didn't…oh God."</p><p>"Everything's alright. I made sure to tell both nurses, his surgeon, and his doctor not to give him any narcotics under any circumstances. The most they gave him was anesthesia and I even had to consent to the morphine since I'm his medical contact."</p><p>"Good. By the way, JJ just texted and said the rest of the team will be over soon, as soon as they finish processing Richards."</p><p>Reid finally had enough of listening to them talk about him and managed to force his eyes open. It felt as if both lids had twenty-pound weights on them. Immediately, his eyes were assaulted with light that seemed like it was way too bright to be in a hospital. He slammed them shut again and groaned.</p><p>"Hey, kid, how you feelin'?" Morgan asked.</p><p>Reid groaned again softly and tried to shift his body to the right. Immediately, a sharp pain flew up his abdomen. He gasped softly and grasped the rail in a white-knuckled grip. Hadn't they given him morphine? Apparently not as much as he thought.</p><p>Morgan gave a humorless chuckle. "I guess that answers my question."</p><p>Once again, Spencer dragged his eyes open and forced them to stay open until they adjusted to the sudden onslaught of light. Through half lids, he warily flicked them around the room. Morgan was sitting in one of the stereotypical plastic hospital chairs on the right side of his bed while Garcia was in the comfier armchair on his left. To his shock, Garcia was not the one holding his hand, but Morgan.</p><p>"Hey, 187, welcome back," Garcia said softly, "How are you feeling, really?"</p><p>"Okay," Reid said in a hoarse voice. He winced at how dry his throat was and reached up to rub his hand over it.</p><p>Garcia looked immensely worried, "I'll go get you some water." She hurriedly got up, her heels clicking the floor as she exited the room. The genius' eyes may have only been half-open, but he swore he saw her wipe away tears.</p><p>"Okay kid, she's gone so cut the crap. How much pain are you in?" Morgan demanded, eyeing him in a way that said, "don't lie to me because I will know".</p><p>"I'm alright Morgan," Reid croaked, but upon seeing the withering glare he received from the elder agent, changed his statement to, "I'm sore, but that's to be expected. Really, I'm okay."</p><p>Suddenly, Morgan launched himself up from his seat, his fists clenched in anger. "Damn it Reid! You're not okay. Stop trying to play this down in the usual self-deprecating way you do like your life doesn't matter as much as everyone else's! You call having your liver nicked by a knife blade okay? Sure they were able to fix it, but that's not the point."</p><p>Reid flinched away from Morgan, knowing his best friend was just upset, but still never responding well to hostility. Seeing this seemed to deflate Morgan. He slumped back down into his chair with a sigh.</p><p>"Sorry," he muttered, "It's just…Reid, you scared the shit out of me, all of us, actually."</p><p>The room was momentarily filled with awkward silence. Finally, Reid spoke up. "I'm sorry," he said. Morgan sighed once again.</p><p>"No, none of that either. You don't have anything to be sorry for. I just hate it when you act like you're not as important as everyone else on the team, like you 're death wouldn't affect us."</p><p>"That's because it wouldn't."</p><p>Morgan's head whipped up and his eyes once again darkened in anger. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"</p><p>"It just means that if I died, you might be doleful for a few weeks, but then I would be replaced and everyone would move on," the genius said quietly.</p><p>Morgan gaped at him. "Kid, I know you've got self-esteem issues that we need to work on, but your death would destroy us. I don't want to even think about it, but I doubt the team would even be able to function any longer. We wouldn't be the same without you, <em>I</em> wouldn't be the same without you. If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm about to tell you, Spencer."</p><p>The use of his first name had Reid reeling. Morgan never called him by his first name. It was always Reid or kid or, if the situation called for it, pretty boy. The fact that Morgan had used it told him that whatever he was about to say was heavy.</p><p>"You're like the little brother I never knew I needed. Yeah, I know what it's like to be a big brother, but I have two sisters. Finding a brother in you lifted a weight off my chest that I didn't know was there. But, when I found you lying there in a pool of your own blood, I felt that weight return along with this painful grief and anger that I didn't know what to do with. Frankly, I can't lose you."</p><p>Reid didn't know how to react. Ever since he had first met Morgan clear back when he was twenty-two, he had viewed the man as the big brother he had always wished he could have growing up to protect him. Hearing the affections returned though, it made the world stop for Reid.</p><p>"Thank you," he whispered, and, to his embarrassment, he felt tears welling up in his eyes.</p><p>Morgan gave him a megawatt grin and handed him a tissue. "Anytime. I…well, you know…yeah," he finished lamely.</p><p>"Yeah I know," Reid responded, a matching grin on his face.</p>
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